Nephilim: The Calling
by A Love Destructive
Summary: Ichigo has seen the dead & delivered them to the beyond for years. It'd become an everyday routine, second nature, like breathing. Then, on his 17th birthday, a chance encounter with a girl changes his entire world, his entire life. This is The Calling.
1. Intro: His first near death experience

Disclaimer: I own nothing of _BLEACH_ or anything by Kubo Tite and I do not wish to because then it would _so not _be as _awesome _as it is today.

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"Shall claim of death cause us to grieve,/ And make our courage faint or fail?" - A.L. Frink, "The Rose Still Grows Beyond the Wall"

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**Introduction: A first "near death" experience**

Tatsuki growled at Ichigo as she threw him onto the floor, "You wimp!" She taunted, "get back up and stop crying. Fight me like the man you're supposed to be." He was a little cutie, always smiling that shy smile, looking over at his gorgeous mother with those large liquid-chocolate-puppy-dog-eyes (that could melt the coldest of hearts) to see if she was watching, which she was, proudly too.

She had once expected more out of him, since Ichigo was a boy, but all he'd done all practice long was cry and cry and cry until his mommy came over to him and crooned nice things to make him feel better. But that was three years ago: by now they had become good friends and he was able to shrug off her taunts. He was not, however, able to cope with the hurt caused by the bruises earned from sparring in their karate dojo. So he cried. Oh, she _tried_ to help him grow a spine, really she did. She felt it was her duty as one of his best friends to help him. But this kid was just hopeless. A wimpy hopeless crybaby.

"Come _on_, you fruity wuss, _grow_ _up_ a little. Take your stance and let's do this again."

"'kay." He rubbed his eyes and shakily got off the floor, his mother beaming and giving him a thumbs-up. He could feel her heart reaching out to his saying _Do your best!_ He nodded. As soon as he took guard position Tatsuki disarmed him with a single strike and threw him over her shoulder. He started crying.

It went on like that for two hours until it was time to go. Masaki Kurosaki, Ichigo's mother, looked down at him kindly and said, "How's my big boy doing?" She kissed him on the cheek and Ichigo felt that he couldn't help but smile. Everything got better when his Momma was around. She was like a goddess so pretty and gracious.

Masaki hugged him tightly, and they stepped out of the dojo and into the rain, making their way through the dense downpour towards home. Ichigo had on his orange rain-boots so he could puddle-jump. He wandered a bit ahead. His mother lifted up her black umbrella and she said, "Don't wander off too far!"

So, to make his Momma happy (and, because he secretly liked to, though he would _never ever _actually _admit _it), he took Momma's hand and skipped alongside her as they walked down the sidewalk. It was Ichigo's sixth birthday that day, and Karin's third birthday too. She was his _little_ sister but Karin had even been born on the _exact_ _same_ _minute_ as Ichigo had three years before her. His father Isshin too. They were all celebrating that day. It was supposed to be a supremely happy day.

Many years later it would be hard for him to remember that.

They weren't prepared for the sound. The pain. The crash. It all happened so fast.

It came out of nowhere, screeching down the road. Ichigo only knew and heard that sound for the span of a mere second before his mother cried out "Ichigo!" and pushed him violently. He landed two meters away from her and kept rolling, bruised from where she shoved him, until he stopped, hitting his head against a metal pole. Then, the young boy listened for the first time to the soon-to-be most hated sound he had ever heard in his life. The quiet scream of the dying. It terrified him, this scream, the scream of a torment so great it could not be voiced by words or any sound. It pierced his ears, pounding inside his head, spearing through his heart. A moment later, the silence was normal again, but for the rain.

His vision was blurred, but he could make out a large shape and bright orange, like water cascading down from a tall figure. The figure was limp. "No...not Momma." He started to cry. "Momma...? Momma..." Ichigo got up and stumbled towards her, his little boots and raincoat now useless. He smelled something acrid and it burned his nostrils. He sneezed and coughed. The cough jarred his head, and blinding white pain flashed in his mind. He began wailing, only stopping when he realized that his noise made the pain worse. He sniffled, "Momma...Momma wake...Momma wake up...you have to..." He touched her hand, knew that familiar warmth and softness, but it didn't have that _Momma is here_ feeling that it usually gave off. His vision cleared for a bit, though the downpour had only just intensified.

It was like there was a silent keening noise arising as the rain splattered onto the ground. Like the sky was lamenting something sad. So sad.

"Momma please..." he tugged on her hand. Her eyes were looking softly down, he could have sworn she was looking straight at him. She had a faint smile on her lips, that secret smile, the one she saved for the men in her family that she loved most. He realized that she couldn't be reached, and that the only reason she was still standing though slumped, was the great grocer's tuck that pinned her against a wall. "Momma...Momma, no..." Black oozed out of her mouth, but then he realized that it was red. He realized that she would never get to say those special words to him _"How's my big boy doing?"_ or smile that special, special smile. But he didn't cry. He just stared and stared and stared.

The man who must have driven the grocer's truck stepped out covered in red too. He was just a little transparent and disappeared altogether when Ichigo looked at him from a certain angle.

"What...what happened...?" The man was puzzled. He saw a boy with blood on his head and a woman pinned in front by his truck. "My god...my god...my god..." He didn't notice the stains on his own shirt, how his head was broken open and spilling like the unfortunate melons he had been transporting in the back. He was panicked, fussing over the boy, not comprehending when his hands couldn't grasp the orange-haired child.

"Momma." Ichigo whispered, "you're..." Ichigo touched the man on the arm and the man felt like he was immaterial. It was like the time Ichigo had placed his hand on the water and felt the surface not break, but give. Surface tension. A light appeared around the man and he began sinking into the ground. He cried out but Ichigo said nothing. The boy waited until the grocer was gone before he started walking home.

That grocer had been Ichigo's first ghost.

That day was the last time Tatsuki could ever say that she saw Ichigo smile. He never looked happy again.


	2. Chapter One: The Awakening

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to _Bleach_.

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"A man walking is a man dying; death follows him like a shadow." - A Baol Proverb

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**Chapter One**: _The Awakening_

Ulquiorra "Black Wings" Cifer solemnly finished his final kill, licking the blood nonchalantly off of his fingertips. Two long dark trails fell from his eyes center, as though he were weeping silently, eternally. Inwardly, he felt a mite displeased. There was blood-spatter on his chest. It would take a lot of scrubbing to remove. Just another reason why he never wore a shirt: the material would be ruined. He was comforted by the fact that he managed to keep blood from lathering his horns this time. He felt an incoming pulse; the First Order was contacting him. A black butterfly flew in from of him and he spoke to it.

"I have eliminated the rebels."

A cool voice sounded from the direction of the butterfly. "That is well. I expect that there is nothing left of them." That was Byakuya Kuchiki. He was royalty, a prince and a knight in the Netherworld. He held mastery over Death itself. The Kuchiki house was full of dignified nobility that was powerful in its own right. They were Dominions and Powers, the highest order of Seraphs. They were influential and enviable.

"Not unless you wish there to be."

"Orihime will join you shortly."

"My Lord." Ulquiorra was a courteous individual, loyal to a T, and everything about him spoke of death. It was no wonder though, that his associates called him the Devil. He was the pale soldier, a demon of death. For, only one with such a calm state of mind could ever be a Tempest. A sudden breeze stirred his hair. A glowing apparition alighted before him, nearly impossible to perceive through the brilliance.

"Master Cifer." An effeminate voice rang out through the dark, tremulous and friendly. The voice belonged to a girl, voluptuous and innocent in the same breath. A sweet-natured and pretty country girl with an hourglass figure. She was an angel descended from heaven, glowing with the benevolent naivete of a child. She was Orihime Inoue.

Ulquiorra gave her a curt nod, murmuring, "Princess." She grinned at the nickname and shyly approached him. She was one of the few he actually permitted in his presence. She took his hand and smiled up at him. "Let us be going." His wings unfurled from his back, great wings like those of a bat. His arms wound around her thin waist, drawing her close, as his wings pumped once and propelled them into the sky.

* * *

A slightly bruised youth, lean, toned and tall for his age, wandered into his first period just before the late bell rang. He ran a hand through his bright orange hair, exhausted from the night before and the ridiculously violent morning caused by dumb brutes cornering him on his way to school. Of course, they were easily defeated. He had spent the entire evening listening to his accursed ghostly entourage wail and bemoan their circumstances. The rings around his eyes only made his glare more pronounced to the kids around him when he passed by. A couple of classmates cringed away as he neared them. He was known by his graduating class as a fighter, one of the best in the school, but lately his reputation had gotten worse in the sight of all the fresh bruises he sported on his skin. Though, some fights weren't with humans. Some were monsters. Some attacked him...and some....

Yuzu, his little cousin, was staying at their house and bonding with Karin and "Daddy". She was in danger, like the rest of his ghost-seeing family. But Yuzu had no idea how close she had come to dying last night. If he had been just a moment slower, that...that _thing_ would have impaled her. He could still hear her screams of terror from his dreams. He doubted he would get any sleep for the next two months.

A feeling in his gut told him that something was watching him. He whipped his head around, searching. There was a groan behind him and a chill ran down his spine. They were back again. _Go away_, he silently pleaded, his usual scowl deepening with irritation. His brown eyes flashed with displeasure as the ghost and his pals began clamoring for attention, each cluster fighting to be heard by him. The noise was deafening. It had always been like that. Things like this used to scare him, but no more. Nothing would scare him. Not since his mother had passed away.

The ghosts began to scream and he put headphones on, even knowing that playing music loudly on his iPod would not drown out those infernal voices. Misfortune was his very best friend; it seemed more apparent every day. _Why me...?_ At least he and Tatsuki were able to help each other out with that kind of thing. But the unorthodox exorcising wore on him, ate away at his resolve. He was starting to lash out more often, losing himself in the fights and actually beginning to _relish_ the brawls. That wasn't like him. He wasn't that kind of person. He swore to protect the people he loved just like his mother protected him. He owed her that much, at least. He sighed, wondering when he came to be so bitter. But Ichigo knew he was kidding himself by pretending that he didn't know; it was the evening his mother died. What was worse...the worst of it was that after he passed out on the roadside his mother's body was gone. It had vanished. The blood still stained the roads though. It had been burned into the wall.

He was about to sit at his desk when a frivolous voice, belonging to and accompanied by an equally frivolous person, shouted, "Heyyyyyy, I-chi-goooo—ack!" Keigo Asano was cut off abruptly as Ichigo punched him lightly in the face. He fell dramatically to the ground, whimpering and rolling around and making a general fuss until he realized no one was paying attention. Keigo sat up with a sour look on his expressive face, rubbing his cheek and pouting. "I was only going to say good morning..."

"And what exactly makes today a good morning? When has any morning been a good one?" Ichigo grumbled, already used to Keigo's ridiculous antics by now. They had been friends for years so Keigo had gotten used to being punched as well. He had it coming, Ichigo figured. His idiocy got worse every day. "Mizuiro. Deal with him."

The mild-mannered boy smiled. "Sorry, Ichigo. No time for the idiot's histrionics today."

"Hey—ouch!" Keigo was silenced once more as his best friend used him as a footstool.

"I can't deal with him: right now I'm calling my girlfriend. She gets worried if I don't call her before the magazine's workday begins," Mizuiro sighed placidly. The oh-so-polite Mizuiro, Keigo's best friend (a.k.a. "master"), hid a venomous tongue behind that smiling mouth of his. No one could ever really tell if he truly meant those passive-aggressive insults. Ichigo studied him for a moment. He was already answering the woman (no doubt older and more mature) on the other end, not seeing the ugly dead hanging around him, crawling over his shoulder.

Ichigo ignored the ghosts. He could do nothing about them until they decided to haunt him later at the clinic his father ran. He resolved to actually try to make it to second period that day. Usually he had to walk out of class before first even ended.

Unfortunately, the groaning and moaning became too loud for him in second period. He almost —_almost—_ made it, but a third of the way through, his hands were shaking and he felt like breaking something. He wished he had Karin's conviction and endurance. She simply denied that fact that she even saw them, the dead things, straight to their face. She said that as long as she didn't believe it wouldn't bother her. He didn't have that luxury. Not since Masaki died. He grimaced and shoved out of his desk, the class unfazed by this display. It had been happening for the past two years.

"Hey, Teach, I'm leaving." He waved his hand at the sputtering teacher as he walked out the door. The ghosts followed him. They tried hanging all over him but he shook them off when he ran down the halls. He cursed loudly and kicked the outer wall, opening his shoe-locker.

"Hey," Tatsuki said from behind him, "where do you think you're going?" She leaned against the lockers and looked at him disapprovingly, folding her arms over her chest. Her pretty blue eyes were sharp indeed; she could see that something was going on with him.

He cursed again as he slipped on his chucks and stood, shouldering his pack. "Don't think you can stop me, Tatsuki." He slammed the locker shut. "And, what's the "Dragon" doing here talking to me anyway? Shouldn't you be in class? I actually thought you were a good student. I'm supposed to be the delinquent here." She had earned the nickname "dragon" because of her name and her prowess on the streets, fighting alongside Ichigo as his partner-in-crime. They always had each other's backs, no matter what the situation. Among the many scrapes and bruises they got were the evidence of a long friendship and a mutual respect.

"Can't argue with my being a great student. Or your delinquency," Tatsuki shoved against him companionably as she followed him off the school grounds. "But, you know I have just as much a right to leave as you." She had a point. She ranked as fourteenth highest in the entire school academically while he was twenty-seventh. The both of them could afford to skip school. Not that that was a good thing. However, Tatsuki usually kept Ichigo out of trouble when he skipped, so the administration (unbelievably) let it pass. "Why don't we go to the park today?" she suggested, hesitant. She knew a lot of things often happened at the park, things he had no wish to ever talk about.

He nodded gratefully. Tatsuki always knew when something was wrong and just what to say or do. She had a knack for it, one would think, when it came to him. Back when they were little, when his mother had died, she had known not to say anything when he told her. She stood beside him and just held his hand while he had stared numbly at the bodiless grave for his mother. She was like another sister. One that he was very much grateful for. The two walked on in silence, neither speaking for the longest time, even after they had reached the park.

Ichigo sighed and ran a hand agitatedly through his chopped, tousled hair. He didn't know how to begin. Tatsuki decided to make it easy on him. "They're appearing more often, aren't they?" she muttered grimly. They stopped in a playground, where Tatsuki took a seat on the see-saw. Ichigo joined her on the other end. It squeaked rustily as he pushed off the ground. "They're coming around more often. I _thought_ that they had but..."

Tatsuki was spiritually sensitive, though not as perceptive to otherworldly happenings as Ichigo. She could feel the haunts almost as well as Ichigo could see, hear, touch and smell them. She was one of the only ones who knew about Ichigo's secrets. About his "gift".

Tatsuki pushed off the ground and Ichigo lowered as she rose. He saw the concern in her eyes, gave her a smile that somehow still looked like a frown, "Don't worry. They can't hurt me. It's not as if they're getting malevolent. They're just getting really frantic. Like something's upsetting them." It was true enough. Only thing that hurt him was lack of sleep. His damned dreams of a man who was always in pain. Of a girl that was like moonlight on snow. Of a looming un-shadow that looked just like him, cackling and laughing wildly, carving a path of blood into the flesh of others. "I can take it. It's the same thing as always."

"Upsetting...?" Tatsuki shook her head. She did not like that train of thought. What could possibly agitate a dead thing? "But think about how much you suffer. Everything you see or hear. It's not good for you, mentally or physically. The strain is bad, Berryboy. It's like—"

That was when the monster appeared.

It was in the shape of a gargantuan grey baboon with a scarlet snake in place of its tail. It spoke: "In this world we only have existence as prove of ourselves. First question, boy – why do you exist?" It lunged forth and bit Ichigo on his shoulder, picking him up and flinging him away like a ragdoll. Tatsuki stood paralyzed. "No..."

It spoke again: "You only have a purpose as a reason for your existence. So, boy. Second question – what is the reason behind your continued existence? What purpose do you serve?"

She saw Ichigo off among the fallen trees. He was glowing. He was red.

Then, she rushed the monster-thing with everything she had, her nascent experience of no use in this particular matter. It knocked her down and pinned her to the ground with a taloned paw. The thing was about to pulverize her. She squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth. She would not utter a sound. It bent it's head down to Tatsuki. "Beyond what we know is nothing. Nothing is beyond what we know. Humans fear nothing, and so continue this pointless search for the meaning behind life. So tell me boy, as I ask of you a third thing: why do you humans fruitlessly try to grasp at that which does not exist?"

Ichigo pulled on that tightly wound ball inside of him, found the string unraveling. "Because...we are helpless...so we fight against that powerlessness with everything we have. All to protect what we love." He took it into him and rammed the monster and he pushed with everything he had. The creature exploded. A moment later it reformed and laughed. Then it disappeared.

The clearest memory Ichigo would have of that day after was Tatsuki's panicked face as the pain hit him.

* * *

Far away, on top of a lamppost, a young-looking girl watched the proceedings with horror. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He shouldn't be awakening until later, when he was twenty or so. He should have died before Awakening. She needed to help him before he hurt himself or the girl that was close to him. Before something terrible happened. Before things got so far that she couldn't stop the progression. Her mentor's best friend, the fey-child prodigy Hinamori Momo, stood beside her, quivering. The young girl's black swallowtail wings fluttered in agitation. "Hurry, Rue. I will notify the Winter King. He will know what to do for you." Momo jumped off, disappearing silently.

"My thanks, Momo."The pale one's wings unfurled, great white wings, veined and transparent, as frail-looking as the intricate crystals that form snow in winter. She swooped down from her perch and followed the scent of Awakening.

* * *

Tatsuki watched in disbelief as her best friend went down. Then she got angry. Unreasonable, she knew, to feel anger instead of sorrow or grief but then, she never was sensible when it came to loving her friends. Because a dragon always protected her friends. She hated it when she couldn't. She fell to her knees beside him in the mulch. "Ichigo, what's wrong? Ichigo? Come on, answer me!"

She didn't know what to do for him, writhing and arching on the ground as he was. Was it convulsions? Possession? She didn't really sense anything coming from the area around him...no that wasn't entirely true. While she could not sense any ghostly energy, she could sense spiritual energy coming from him. It was heavy. She felt her breath being stolen from her lungs. What was this? She tried to reach out to him, but her mind was slowly growing blank. She could barely move.

Tatsuki struggled against the pressure. There appeared a sort of halo around her best friend, beautiful, and powerful with the dark splendor, so wonderful that she knew it could kill. He screamed. She touched him and nearly passed out from the strain of keeping her sanity around him, but held herself together. She had to help him. A dragon always looked out for what it loved. She always looked out for him. Always.

She stood with effort, swaying, and breathing heavily as the pressure increased minute by minute, second upon second. Her ears rang, her head clanged like great iron bells tolling. And slowly, ever so slowly, for her hand felt like it was fading away as it came closer to him, she reached out and pulled him up with her. He was becoming blindingly dark, yet brilliant, as though his darkness made everything else around him stand out more pronounced. He fell against her and she caught him, feeling the full impact of the nothingness. She reeled and tears streamed down her cheeks. Was she being drained? Killed? How? Why? Whatever the case, it didn't matter: she needed to get him somewhere safe. She hefted him onto her back and took a step forward, each move a task. People stared but she paid them no mind, too focused on bringing him home.

It was dusk by the time she made it to his family's clinic; he had stopped moving in an agonized way, but his breathing was still labored. When she opened the door, no one greeted her, so she set about moving up the steps with a heavier, taller, more muscular boy prone on her back. [The Kurosaki family had left a note on the table. It read: _Ichigooooo!_ (insert "heart" next to a crude depiction of "Daddy") _We left to go to Karin's football game today! Sorry you aren't here but Daddy knows his son is in the full blossom of his manly youth and needs to dally until late! _("Daddy" winks) _Hope you and Tatsuki have moved along further than Daddy hopes! Your cousin Yuzu says dinner is in the fridge!_] She opened the door to his room, the numbers one and five on either side of a red crayon strawberry drawing. They were puns on the way his name sounds like it can be written ("ichi" being one and "go" being five) and how it can be written as it sounds ("ichigo" also being strawberry). She had made it for him when they were five during Crafts Time in kindergarten. She smiled briefly at the memory as she slid him off her back and onto the bed. He lay there his eyes fluttering and she smiled again, now that she knew he was safe inside, before she fell to her knees beside him.

A white dove fluttered in through the open window, touching down on a young man's swivel chair in his room. It glowed once, and a girl sat in it instead, gazing morosely at him. Her white dress shimmered light blue, and the bells on the lace around her wrists tinkled once. The girl was an Angelos in the Second Order, one of the few that served under the Winter Child-King, his second-in-command. She had been charged with watching over the young boy and his companion for quite some time now, seeing as she had failed Kaien. The Powers of the High Court were giving her a chance to redeem herself, prove her worthiness. That was the reason she had temporarily been assigned to guidance and the station of a guardian. She was to protect the boy until Kaien Shiba's soul re-Awakened after being reincarnated. The youth even looked like Kaien. Same seriousness. Same gentle soul shining through, even if Kaien's memories had been erased. Although, The girl had learned over the years that he was nothing like Kaien. Nothing at all. Kaien would smile, and he was never sharp of tongue or hot-tempered. But this boy...he never smiled at all.

This boy, this street punk, this Ichigo – he struggled with his power. He would scowl for days on end, even in his sleep, as though sleep was merely another obstacle he had to overcome. He was so unhappy. Sometimes her heart broke for him, for she had grown fond of him, though they had never spoken. Her eyes shed tears when the suffering mounted, almost every day for him. She had watched so silently as he had faced bullies after his mother died, stood by his side while he shed not a tear by her grave. Back then...she had wanted so badly to reach out to him...let him know that someone was watching over him. She had watched he and Tatsuki help put souls to rest, watched them build forts, run from ghosts, make new friends, have sleep-overs, grow up.... She watched so silently. But at least he wasn't alone.

The girl that had befriended Ichigo so long ago was sleeping beside him, her head resting on the mattress while she sat on the floor. This Tatsuki girl, she was special too...but the young woman didn't care about that right now. She lifted herself into the air, and gazed down at him, checking his aura. For a moment she was shaken. This aura was nothing like her friend's, nothing at all like a Power. It was dark and unstable and consuming. How had it not eaten him alive? How had his spirit not been broken? What had happened? She waved a hand over his face and his eyes flicked open. There was a moment of overwhelming emptiness threatening to envelop her, but it passed.

He sat up. "Who are you?"

Ichigo had not seen this apparition ever. Not once. It was a strong one, for he was nearly blinded by it's absoluteness, it's purity. So white, like freshly fallen snow. And then those dark blue eyes...ageless...forever...that dream he had came back to him, vividly.

He reached up and touched her face, dispassionately watched her shiver under his caress and stroked her jawline continuing down until his hand slid around her neck and began to tighten. He grinned. He didn't know why but he felt so alive, so empty, so _not_ – and the nothing was building so, he just _had_ to let it spill on her. Something in him pulsed and the girl in front of him looked scared and fragile and something in him shouted—_**break it...break it...break it...breakitbreakitbreakitbreakitbreak**_—and screamed for destruction.

The girl calmly raised her hand, placed it over his heart, and whispered, "Path of the Five Powers that Be: eighth rune of the soul-binding." Her brightness seemed to flare behind her, four white mists of divinity, in the shape of wings.

Ichigo gagged and fought it, his lungs stopped and he panicked and began struggling but couldn't move. Mind racing, he concentrated on bringing whatever it was that held him to its limit. _Damn it. Damn it. __**Damn**__ it!_ He broke free, arms snapping out, and leapt up, taking her by the shoulders to pin her against the opposite wall. He was close to screaming in her face. "_What_ _is_ _happening to me_? _What are you_?" He could feel her chest rise and fall against his. _That isn't right. Spirits shouldn't be able to have a corporeal form. Who is she?_ He shook her shoulders. "_Tell me who you are_."

The delicate girl looked terrified, like he was some kind of new beast she had never seen before. "You were never supposed to Awaken this early," she mumbled through frost-blue lips. She grew small and so vulnerable then. "It was never supposed to happen this way. You were supposed to live on, then in college get killed by a grocer's truck, saving a young child in the process." _Just like my mother...oh, the fucking irony..._ "You shouldn't have awakened yet!" _She's scared too..._

"The hell do you mean '_die_'?" Something erupted within. Ichigo's world tipped sideways. He moved backwards, falling onto the bed, and ran his hands through his orange spikes. It pulsed in him again, like a second heartbeat. His head was going to tear itself open, he concluded. His skull—what was wrong with it? He hunched over and gritted his teeth.

The young woman rushed to him, her eyes filled to the brim with worry. Her tiny hands fluttered over him, soft touches. "You shouldn't be progressing this far..." She looked about the room as if somehow she could find something to help ease his pain. She murmured, "What do I do...? Maybe Lord Cifer..." and as she looked over she saw Ichigo receive his birthright. Wings made of darkness itself, pushing out of his back. Big and black, glowing red, they were, bursting out of his skin, flecked with blood. "No!" Rukia cried, as if she could somehow stop the transformation, his Awakening, by simply commanding it, "You mustn't release them! Hold it back!"

But it was futile and she saw that he could do nothing but lay and look at her with sclera that were darker than black, irises a phosphorous gold. He collapsed again, tired from the third stage of Awakening. She knelt by him and touched his face tentatively, afraid of bring him into the waking world. She needed help, she needed guidance, she needed....

"Rukia. Momo sent for me. What happened here?" A white-haired child with the clearest blue eyes perched like a bird at the window sill, his beautiful ice-wings sparkling in the now-risen moon's light. The room's temperature dropped and Ichigo's breath turned into fog. "What is this child before you?" He looked as grim and somber as always, though on the face of a child, it seemed tragic. However, Rukia knew this was no child. This angelic being had the power to freeze an entire ocean. And he was older, much older than she, in existence for as long as the Heavenly Emperor had been.

Rukia bowed in respect to her Master, mentor and friend. "My Lord Hitsugaya. You have once again saved me." She could not count the number of situations Toushirou had rescued her when her power ran amok. He was a great friend, especially when he had first found her. Kind, though stern, and an admirable Lord.

Toushirou Hitsugaya was a Power: a being of destruction and creation with mastery over elements. His mastery was over all that chilled, all in winter, all under the heavens. It was said that, even before his Awakening and Ascension, he had frozen his entire village by accident because he had been dreaming that he had caught the common cold. He was a law unto himself.

Masters had a higher existence in the Netherworld; they were enlightened beings. They belonged to the three highest of orders out of eight. Toushirou was one of seven in the the First Order. These were mainly warriors, known to the denizens of the Netherworld as the Powers. The First Order had originally consisted of five: Ulquiorra "Black Wings" Cifer, the Storm Demon with Orihime Inoue, the Summer Lass; Uryuu Ishida, the Bearer of Light; Toushirou Hitsugaya, the Winter Lord; Byakuya Kuchiki, the Angel of Death; Kaien Shiba, the next Dark King. But Kaien died and there were only the Four Kings for centuries. The four were many things and known by many names, but it was easier to call them all "Powers". He wasn't supposed to be there. A supreme being had no business being around a newly awakened "seraph".

"My ward has awakened before he had time to die."Rukia decided to tell Hitsugaya everything in regards to the situation. Hitsugaya had many more lifetimes of wisdom and knowledge, as well as understanding the best way to utilize his many gifts. He would know what to do. "Ichigo Kurosaki. A senior high school student that could perceive supernatural occurrences. The High Dominions had high hopes for him when he died, and I was to watch him until then..."

Toushirou clutched a sword made of ice in his hand. He looked ready to use it. "They didn't tell you?" Ichigo's horns weighed on his head, heavy and smeared with blood. The wings were limp and inky.

Rukia stood. She was almost afraid to ask. "What didn't they tell me?"

Toushirou paused, considering. Should he tell this distraught heiress the truth? "This boy..." He indicated Ichigo. "He isn't just a human with some talent. But his father...his father's wings had been clipped. His father is a Fallen Seraph." Toushirou cocked his head to the side. "Couldn't you smell it on him? The stench of pain? Of suffering? He isn't the reincarnation of Kaien, I don't think. This once, I believe that the elders are wrong. But the reincarnation of close by."

If Rukia was shocked before then no words could do justice to what she felt in that moment. He was not...even half-human? She had never heard of this before. "What should...?" She felt responsible for him. For everything. She was supposed to be protecting him, yet she could do nothing but idly stand by while her ward got hurt.

"For now, let's keep observing him and his family. We'll see where it goes from there." Toushirou paused for a moment and turned to her, the moon outlining his beautiful ice-wings. "Good luck, Rue." He leapt off of the ledge and into the air, and through the night there could be seen a long opalescent dragon, twisting, wingless and serpentine through the air, it's silver claws and white mane glimmering under the moonlight.

Rukia watched Toushirou until he was gone and turned back to Ichigo. His horns were receding for now, but there was no telling when he would receive claws and anything else. She leaned down and touched his cheek with her cool-as-ice hand. "I'm so sorry, Ichigo."

* * *

Uryuu Ishida was flying at high speed, as fast as he could. He was to meet up with Ulquiorra and Orihime at Byakuya's garden. Toushirou had sent word by his attendant that there was something huge, extraordinary, and they all needed to be aware of it. The light-wings behind him propelled him forward even faster. He carried with him his his bow and quiver filled with star-arrows, outfitted with the Robes of Truth. He was, in all honesty, not looking forward to this meeting at all. Byakuya was likely to make them dress in traditional Japanese attire, as the embodiment of beauty and the warriors for this land, the elemental that had mastery over death and was known to many as the Angel of Death. Uryuu wondered why the five Great Masters had to gather there. What could possibly be so important that he had to leave his place in his personal realm and go to Byakuya's? It annoyed him, this fanfare and hush-hush about practically nothing.

He landed in Byakuya's courtyard, the death-fey shying away from his starlight. Here, in the melancholy night realm where the cherry blossoms eternally bloomed, here was where he shined. He stood among them, heard how they whispered of him and his exploits. He nodded to one of the servants and the fey bowed.

"This way."

Uryuu shuddered at the thing's voice, a hint of star-smothering carrying through the air. He followed it to the main room where the others were already seated. He took his place among the Five Seats of the Powers.

Byakuya nodded to him, passing him some black tea with apricot. Uryuu accepted the cup, inclining his head to the lord of death. "What news?"

Toushirou spoke then. "the Soul of Shiba...a nephilim is the container. He has recently awakened. Lady Rukia was witness to it. She alerted me immediately. I arrived not a moment too soon. The boy had already grown into the attributes of the Dark King. Without the help of the court. Or the first king, Zaraki."

"..._What_?" Uryuu exclaimed. He could not believe it. "Another nephilim? How? And when? It awakened? Like Ulquiorra?"

Ulquiorra, in his usual black trench and black slacks, skin whiter than pearls, brushed his choppy midnight locks out of his sea-foam eyes. Uryuu wondered if Ulquiorra ever got cold going shirtless all the time. Not likely. It took a lot to make Black Wings even feel anything. The demon lord of summer pushed back his hair again, muttering, "Impossible, Hitsugaya. Trash cannot ever Awaken. _I_ would know."

The Demon's constant companion, a pretty young girl with foxy red hair and a rather curvaceous form, timidly admonished Ulquiorra. "Cifer...don't call humans trash. They can be really kind, you know."

The tone of the argument was one of repetition through a disagreement, common throughout the astral plane. It was the topic, the question all ephemeral beings discussed amongst themselves from time to time: Were the humans really worth watching over? The Six Great Ones believed so, to an extent. They had some followers who helped them watch over a few cases that would change the course of human history. King Charlemagne, Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founders of the Shinsengumi, King Solomon, Aristotle, Plato, Jeanne d'Arc, the progenitor of the Ming dynasty, Nicolaos Copernicus, Michelangelo, Lao Tzu.... The Five Great Kings looked out and on for the human race, guiding them, leading the way through the ages. Only now, there were four courts and no fifth king to keep the final court in line.

The Immortal Princess Orihime Inoue laid a hand on Ulquiorra's arm and Uryuu wondered why she didn't get skewered with one of Cifer's lightning lances. Then again, Orihime seemed tolerable to Ulquiorra for some unfathomable reason. He actually seemed to be _interested_ in keeping company with Orihime. But then, she always was a little different from the rest of them.

"Nonsense is again spewing from your mouth, Princess," Ulquiorra remarked wryly. "Look at the meaningless wars they have instigated, they've all but forgotten the old ways—"

"But," she interrupted him desperately, clutching at her flower-print sun-dress, "some of them haven't. Some of them remember. Please, Ulquiorra, hear out what Lord Hitsugaya has to say. This involves young Lady Rukia as well. She is my very good friend." She stared meaningfully at Ulquiorra until he bent under her stare.

"Do what you will."

Orihime smiled kindly at the Summer King and nodded to Toushirou. "Please, continue, Winter Child. We would love to hear what you need to say."

Toushirou paused and said, "It's Isshin's son." There was a momentary lull while the party digested this new piece of information.

Byakuya looked sharply at Toushirou, "My sister is watching over the blood of a Fallen One? Why was I not informed of this earlier?" He was practically the closest to being a great king, aside from High King Yamamoto.

"Lord Byakuya, I ascertained his bloodline only as soon as I felt his Awakening and the aura around his house. He has a younger sister that I plan on watching and observing as well. I told Little Rukia that she should keep doing her duty as before. Watch and do nothing. We will intervene if necessary." This time the Winter Lord looked the Lord of Death straight in the eye, his severe expression piercing Byakuya cleanly as a knife. "Byakuya. Do not worry. We will protect Rukia with all possible resources. I have my personal attendant waiting on standby, guarding her. I'll send word."

Ulquiorra leaned forward. "Now, about the solitary...they've grown irritating...."

* * *

For the next few days, Ichigo's new-found powers had grown quiet and receded. He was able to attend school after a week, no longer suffering from pain or delusions. But he remembered the look on that girl's face, and the cold that came after. Tatsuki certainly remembered. She was able to look at him without fear in her eyes, something he himself was unable to do.

"Come on, Berry-boy. I'm sure everything will be alright," she was saying to him as they walked to school together on an early Tuesday morning. He had his arm slung around her shoulders, comforting to the both of them. In truth, Tatsuki was just as unsettled as he, but she wasn't going to let herself show it. Ichigo was thankful for her effort once again. He looked toward the sky, the image of the girl wreathed in the moon's light imprinted into his thoughts. The day seemed colder than usual during autumn. Ichigo wondered if he was imagining things.

"You say that but..." He had felt stirrings of that strange strength ever since that monster had appeared. That same tell-tale darkness that whispered to him, the absolute black that flooded him. "I see those beings everywhere now." And it was true. He did see the winged-girl constantly, always watching him. Another one, white haired, circled the skies every so often around his house and school. Sometimes it would be a white and silver dragon flying overhead, but Ichigo was certain that that creature was merely the white-haired child. There was one bonus, though. The ghosts had ceased haunting him, but he had no idea about whether or not they would return.

"Maybe you were hallucinating from talent overload?" Tatsuki lifted her shoulders in a who-knows-what-it-was?-gesture. Her choppy black hair was ruffled in the day's slight breeze. "Whatever it was, I'm sure we'll be able to handle it. Like everything else we've gone up against." She knocked her fist against Ichigo's and grinned. He nodded grimly. They would handle it. Together. Just like always.


	3. Chapter Two: Wrong

Disclaimer: I do not own _Bleach _or any related media.

* * *

"Does the walker choose the path or the path choose the walker?" - Garth Nix, _Sabriel_, The Abhorsen Trilogy

* * *

**Nephilim: The Calling**

**Segundo****:**_ Wrong_

The Kurosaki family's days had passed without incident – not including Ichigo, of course. He was constantly troubled by the strange girl and the opalescent dragon. They were everywhere, and only Tatsuki _occasionally_ caught glimpses of them. But she described them as blurs. Not real, defined things. She figured that they were only ghosts. And soon...

**I.  
**

It was the anniversary of Masaki Kurosaki's death. The family had journeyed to where she was buried in order to honor her spirit and remember who she was in life. A mother. A wife. A friend. A guardian. A lover. A best friend. She had an immeasurably significant place in their lives, their hearts, that could never again be filled.

"Hey, Mom." Karin laid flowers on her mother's grave. "We miss you."

The eldest Kurosaki child hovered somberly behind his sister, wanting to speak but unable to find words to say. The sky was weeping again, the rain coming down in light sheets, yet the air heavy, as a summer storm is often wont to be. He wanted to cry, but couldn't. He had forgotten how. The same way he had forgotten that his family's birthday was supposed to be a happy day. Birthdays are supposed to be happy.

Tatsuki laid her hand on his shoulder and bowed her head respectfully to the grave. "You'd be proud of him, Mrs. Kurosaki. He's the strongest kid in our school – excepting me, seeing as how he has yet to beat me – one of the smartest and definitely the bravest. Again, besides me."

"Tatsuki..." Ichigo's face twisted with sorrow at her kindness and her words. She really was there for them. He hugged her tightly around the waist and Karin took her hand.

Tatsuki continued in a whisper so that only Ichigo could hear. "You know, your son grew these wings, like a dark angel, and he totally demolished that thing. He was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen – and that's high praise coming from me (I've seen a _lot_ of amazing things, Mrs. Kurosaki). Really, you'd be so proud...." Her voice cracked on those words. Tears spilled. Ichigo couldn't cry anymore so she would cry for him.

And so it was that the three stood with the rain cascading down around them, arms wound tightly around the other. While one cried for the broken hearts of the ones she loved dearly, the other screamed within from the pain of a broken soul.

Later that night, there was a knock on his door. "Come in," Ichigo looked up from his English homework that he was doing at his desk. Tatsuki was now slumped in a comfy chair, napping. It was not an uncommon sight. She actually slept over at Ichigo's a lot despite being a girl; the Kurosaki family knew that the two friends would not engage in anything particularly...youthful.

The door opened. Karin. The youngest of the family; she was practically a younger version of Ichigo with black hair and the distinction of being female. She even had the same kind of powers as Ichigo. In a few years, she'd be putting a bunch of dead to rest and exorcising spirits too. "Hey, Bro. So, you got a new girlfriend or what?" Her voice was soft so as not to disturb Tatsuki, who was a very light sleeper. Tatsuki hated being woken unnecessarily.

Ichigo was almost startled into a shout. "_Karin_," he hissed. The thought of he and Tatsuki, who was like a _sister_ to him – a shudder ran through him. He did not need to think about this now, when his time was coming to an end. He could just feel it, an anticipation that was building to an impossible height inside of him.

"What?" She shrugged and flopped onto his bed. "Hey.... You don't have the same feel as when you were with Tatsuki. It's different. Pure, sort of. Like the first snow—"

"Stop." Ichigo was becoming frightened again, afraid of facing the surreal reality that hurtled toward him like a bullet to the brain. His little sister now...she was picking up on the aura of that girl that was following him. He let his panic turn into rage, an easy and familiar feeling to deal with. Everything always turned into rage eventually. "Tatsuki and I were _never_ _together_, Karin. She's just...Tatsuki." Tatsuki was different from the feeling of a family member, more than a mere friend, not a romantic interest, and most certainly not physically attractive to him either. Not that she wasn't pretty. It was just that she wasn't the one for him. They both knew it. He just couldn't explain how deep their bond went. It was impossible. Like trying to fathom the depth of space without the concept of numbers and volume.

"I know. I'm only teasing you. Lighten up." Karin raised her eyebrow.

Ichigo growled. "And I do _not_ have a girlfriend. I never will. They're too expensive. Like trying to afford a car. And a car is much more useful."

Karin laughed, "You're lucky your sister is so forgiving when you say things like that about gender roles." They shared a look and smiled wearily, using a kind of communication only available to siblings. It was a look that meant they knew everything would work itself out, everything would be alright. For a while. Only a while. "Anyway, Dad made beef stew."

Ichigo snorted dryly. "Whoa. A rarity." None of the members of the Kurosaki household were particularly domestic. Especially not Isshin.

"I know, man. I bet it actually tastes good, too." She jumped off and beckoned him towards the door. "So... C'mon. I'm getting hungry."

**II.**

Ichigo sat glumly at the dinner table with his Tatsuki and his family. They were having take-out again because none of them could cook worth a crap and the beef stew was burned somehow. Isshin was so terrible a cook, he could char water.

"And Daddy told him, 'You're a damned hospital, you can't be full already! I only run a clinic!' Set him straight on that one." Isshin smiled proudly.

Karin snorted. "Whatever you say, Dad."

Ichigo sighed and dug into his American fries and hamburger. He was trying vainly to ignore the pale petite form standing outside, but it was so hard not to stare. He knew that form: it was the girl, the cold one. Finally, he stood up, unable to take it anymore, and caught Tatsuki's eye, jerking his head in the direction of the door. Tatsuki nodded. She would cover for him.

"So," Ichigo began as he shut the front door to his house behind him. "Why are you watching me?" He stared in consternation at the little being out in the autumn night. She stood out, a beacon of bright purity against the darkness. Her dark hair was immaculate, not one hair out of place. Absolute perfection. She watched him. Did nothing to answer his inquiries, though. Ichigo tried again, "Who are you, really? What's been happening to me?"

The girl showed some concern at those words. She leaned in, blinking her confusion. "Why? Have you felt...wrong in any way?" Her breath was cold, and frost formed at her lips as she spoke. She looked to be made of ice. Such cold fragility, a frail perfection. It seemed like something that should be preserved.

"Tell me what happened." His voice sounded more demanding, more aggressive with every word. Black seeped it's way into the corners of his eyes. "_Tell me_." His heart was pounding, every nerve on alert, charged and spiked with energy. It was happening again. He was changing. That urge to hurt, to give in to his temper, to let go of his inhibitions grew stronger with each passing moment. It was darkness that rose in him, black as pitch, thick as tar.

The girl shook her head as she realized that her presence was triggering something inside of him, giving whatever he hid a force to react to. She backed away, but he reached out and grabbed her arms, pulling her slight lighter-than-snow body against his. He gritted his teeth. The girl quaked, her violet-bleeds-indigo eyes wide. "Please, no...."

Her plaintive voice was enough to pull Ichigo back into reality. He could not understand what brought about the abrupt changes in his personality, the fact that he was doing things he never before would have done. He gripped her shoulders with a controlled sort of desperation, "_Help me_..."

Her ageless eyes looked down and away. "I do not understand what is happening to you either. But I will try to help you in any way possible. I will do whatever I can." She looked miserable, regretful. Ichigo wondered why she was worse for wear when he was the one who didn't even recognize himself anymore. "It's all my fault. I should have watched more carefully. I am so sorry." Her low, velveteen voice trembled with regret.

Ichigo's gaze hardened. "_Why_?" She had no right to be sorry. Did she?

"Because," she felt silent tears fall as she whispered, "you shouldn't be like this. You were supposed to be different." He was supposed to be a Seraphim, a messenger of light. Not a Deimon, a bearer of darkness.

"From what?"

"From the dark one." The girl shook her head, "It is far too late not to expose you to this. So, I will tell you, because you deserve to know. But you will have to leave your friend, family and everything else behind. Can you do this?"

Ichigo laughed, the sound devoid of any possible mirth. "I have to. What if I kill them? I can't do that. I refuse to let myself hurt anyone," he shook his head as he neared the girl. They were so close...the top of her head barely reached his chest. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye at that distance. "I'm ready. What now?" he felt like she was somehow leeching his body heat and his breath fogged as he spoke.

The girl shut her eyes, as if asking silently for forgiveness, and wrapped her arms around his torso. She could feel his humanity slip away from contact with her and the Awakening. "I am the Angelos Rukia of the Kuchiki High Dominion Powers. And I will bring you to the end of your life as you knew it."

Ichigo sighed. Of course it would. How cliche. What was this, a kid's adventure/action comic? "Can't wait."

The temperature of the air dropped. All around them, frost spider-webbed along windows, metal grew slick with ice, the air became misted with chill. Large white appendages burst from the girl's back, mists snows and flurries in the form of wings. They grew and enveloped them, tightening their hold and contracting until a tiny snowflake that drifted to the ground was the only evidence that they had been there.

* * *

Karin felt a shiver run up her back an talked to the open air, praying, though she had never believed. Hoping, though she had no reason to. Why did she have this feeling in the pit of her stomach?

"Ichigo. What's happening to you?"

It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed that after his seventeenth birthday he had changed drastically. She knew it wasn't because no one but Tatsuki had been in the house with him that day. She knew it wasn't because they had left him alone again. She knew it wasn't because their mother died on the same day they were all born.

She turned to Tatsuki, who was watching the sky with the same pensive look on her face. "What happened to him?"

Tatsuki looked at Karin, grave. Her face twisted with concern and fear. "I don't know. But he'll make it through this. He's lived through everything else. You'll see him again."

Karin nodded. She would have faith in him.

* * *

A snow flurry swirled down to the great hall of a palace and deposited two wary travelers onto the floor. Ichigo cracked an eye open and saw many things he did not understand. The floor beneath him was true darkness and all about him were stars, brilliant and burning. The cold permeated everything, mists surrounding them. Rukia stood and led Ichigo by the hand towards the dais where there were six cushions and five occupying the seats.

A child (clothed in black slacks, a sea-foam hoodie, and a white trench coat) about his sister's age sat at the center. He had icy-green eyes, a shock of white hair and a chillingly sardonic countenance. Iridescent scales accented his jawline on the left side, climbing up the side of his face and spearing the eyebrow. From the way he sat, one could tell that he was toned, accustomed to battle, and sick of it. Everything about the boy seemed wrong and perfect at once. A child should not appear to have the same expression that he did.

The boy spoke, his tone holding an uncharacteristic authority in it, "Rukia. What has happened?" As he spoke, like Rukia, the room chilled, became more fragile, white. "Why did you bring this human to us?" The air clouded and Ichigo's lungs became brittle from the severe cold. He wondered who they were, what they were supposed to be. He took notice at movement form his side.

Rukia had bowed, her forehead touching the floor. She said, "My Lord Hitsugaya. The boy has already seen me. He is acquiring power more quickly than expected. I apologize for my incompetence." She sounded frightened. The boy moved and stood from his cushion and started towards the girl, and Ichigo positioned himself in front of her, unsure of what the inhuman child would do to her.

"Do not think of harming me, Kurosaki. I will be forced to eliminate you if you so much as try. Do you understand?" Hitsugaya looked into Ichigo's eyes, with more than a hint of warning. Ichigo nodded. The boy continued forward and placed a hand on Rukia's head. His expression was gentle, as an older brother reassuring his younger sibling. "It is alright, Rukia. You cannot be punished for what is beyond your control. I see that you have done what you thought was best."

"Best?" A new voice – this one, too, authoritative yet it sounded as oppressive and blinding as the sun, radiance edging in through every word. "Hitsugaya, she might have killed us all. She clearly did not think at all." It emanated from an austere bespectacled youth with black hair and a shrewd expression on his face. However, the face held kindness in it, even if it was hard to find. He was clothed in a white button-down shirt and dark blue tie and a strange emblem (a many-pointed star set on a cross) was hanging from a silver chain around his neck. He had a slender frame, but his body held strength like a bow taut and ready to release the arrow. His long fingers on craftsman's hands fidgeted.

"Oh, Ishida. Don't be so melodramatic. I'm sure Mr. Kurosaki is a nice person." A girl this time. Overwhelming sensations of flowers and sweets enveloped Ichigo. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. _Nasty smell... _What _were_ these people?

A calm one, dark and pale, said softly, "You're spouting nonsense again, Princess." He surveyed Ichigo with a calculating stare. "His aura is so volatile."

Ichigo furrowed his brow. His eyes swirled black. "_Who and what are you?_ _You_ _**will**__ tell me_." Darkness winged out from him and his face twisted into a grotesque rendition of a scowl. What would he have to do to get answers? Perhaps he should—could—would—_will_ tear open those repulsively large breasts on that foolish-looking girl with that insipid smile and bite it right off of her face and watch her scream as he shoved his fingers down her throat and out of her abdomen by pure force and licked off the spattered blood that will cover his mouth—

"Ichigo..." A cool hand laid itself on his bicep, bringing him to reality. The dark in his eyes receded as he crumpled to his knees, disbelieving. He was about to...he had been going to...he could not even finish the thought. Such vile acts. Such atrocious things. He would never have

** _I will I will_**

done those things

** _I am a king, a demon, a god_**

before this had been happening to him.

A pair of cool blue-violet eyes rested gently on him. "I'm here. I'm with you." Rukia's hand caressed his face. "I'm not afraid."

Ichigo bowed his head in silent plea. He was still, paralyzed with rigid control and fear.

_Help me._


End file.
